


Swagger

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And Harry is his chosen victim, At the Slug Club, Cormac has wandering hands, I never pretended to have amazing plotlines, M/M, There's also snogging in a broom cupboard, Which is really a nice way of saying that he gets groped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed.





	Swagger

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

Harry was hiding.   
  
He huddled down behind the boxes in the broom cupboard, straining his ears for any tell-tale sounds that would reveal anybody's approach.   
  
Or specifically, _his_  approach.   
  
He didn't know when it had started, only because it had begun incredibly gradually, and he'd always taken the interest McLaggen had in him to only be because of his very obvious romantic interest in Hermione.   
  
But then it had turned into very badly disguised sexual innuendos and groping and _winking_ , and even Harry - oblivious as he was - had to admit that something was up.   
  
He'd endured weeks of this in and amongst all of Dumbledore's extra lessons and  proving Malfoy's guilt and dodging Slughorn's relentless club invitations, and tried his best to ignore the blatant flirting even when it got so bad that people turned to look at them in the hallways (though who wouldn't when the guy had him pressed up against a wall in the middle of the day, barely two minutes' walk from the Great Hall?).   
  
And then, a few hours ago, he'd cracked.   
  
It had happened during one of the Slug Club's meetups. He'd arrived late, and somehow Professor Slughorn had set out one too few chairs. Which meant Harry didn't have a place to sit.   
  
As he entered the room, the Professor paled a little in awkward embarrassment and started blustering about getting another chair, when Harry saw Cormac McLaggen pull out his own chair a little and pat his lap teasingly.   
  
"There's a perfectly good chair here, Professor," he said loudly, a huge smirk on his face that said - very clearly - that he knew he was attractive.   
  
And as Harry stood, flushing a brighter and brighter red as every second passed, he cursed the world that he did indeed find McLaggen _incredibly_  attractive.   
  
He didn't look at the other Gryffindor or at Hermione's pitying look, instead staring resolutely at Slughorn. The man stared back at him, apparently lost for words. The seconds trickled past, and then a minute passed before Harry saw that McLaggen had shifted to face him better, arm across the back of his chair.   
  
"C'mon dear," he said, looking up at Harry. "There's no need to be shy. Nobody here minds, do you?" he didn't look around for an answer as he patted his thigh again slowly, the sound almost obscenely loud in the awkward silence.   
  
"Sit down," he said again, and Slughorn laughed awkwardly.   
  
"Oh, yes." He coughed. "Of _course_  you can sit with your... ummm-" he coughed again, looking away to hide the two pink splotches on his cheeks. "Your boyfriend."   
  
The room felt incredibly warm to Harry, and suddenly he wished he'd never gotten out of bed this morning. He wanted to turn and leave, but his feet were frozen to the ground, refusing to obey him. He opened his mouth to correct the Professor and tell his that McLaggen was definitely _not_  his boyfriend, but then there were firm, strong fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging him down, and before he knew it Harry was sprawled inelegantly across the boy's lap.   
  
He tried to get up, ignoring the squeaky noise of surprise he made, but there were arms around his waist and a nose in his hair and Harry was found himself feeling very much mortified and very much stuck.   
  
"Let go," he whispered, flushing hot and red. McLaggen ignored him, so he tugged on one of the bulky arms wrapped around him a little desperately.   
  
"Let go," he whispered again as the conversation resumed around them. The other boy laughed softly into his hair.   
  
"No."   
  
He wanted to insist, loudly so that the other Gryffindor would _have_  to, but everyone was still sending them looks and Hermione looked so _sorry_  for him that he just couldn't bring himself to make a big deal, and instead looked down at his hands entwined in his own lap.   
  
He'd just began to calm down a little when McLaggen's hand moved to his knee, leaving the other still tight around his waist. He tried to ignore it as the hand moved slowly up his leg and then his inner thigh, but tensed involuntarily when it cupped his groin, and then almost squeaked again when his fingers tightened and squeezed Harry's cock.   
  
He reached to grab at the arm around him, clutching at the bare forearm and trying not to react at the stimulation, but of course he felt his cock rising then, becoming hard.   
  
He moaned then, quiet enough that nobody but the boy under him could hear, and wiggled to get away from the hand.   
  
McLaggen hissed at him to stop, tightening the arm around him, but Harry didn't listen until he realised that McLaggen too was hard.   
  
And his erection lay right against Harry's arse.   
  
He jumped a little, yelping, and Slughorn must've heard because he suddenly broke away from his conversation with another student, looking at Harry in shock before looking up at the clock.   
  
"Oh look!" he laughed, awkward. "Is that the time already? Off to bed with you!"   
  
Harry had been the first one out, racing away from the room as soon as he'd been let loose. He heard a shout of his name behind him, but hadn't even looked back to see if it _had_  actually been McLaggen (though who else would it be?), instead just running away as fast as he could (which, to be fair, was fairly fast). And yes, that wasn't very brave, but Harry was a _little_  too high strung to care, to be perfectly honest. He doubted anyone would call him out on it, in any case.   
  
And now he was here, ensconced in a broom cupboard and trying to ascertain whether or not it was safer to go back to Gryffindor tower or whether he'd have a better chance at survival spending the night here. At the moment, he was leaning towards spending the night, if only because he wouldn't put it past McLaggen to be up and waiting for him to walk into the common room before pouncing.   
  
Was he making lion comparisons in his head? Maybe. To be honest, if you asked him lions _were_  pretty proud creatures, which was really a nicer way of saying arrogant. Perhaps that was what McLaggen had chosen to represent?   
  
He sighed and wriggled around a bit to get comfortable, trying to find a position that'd be bearable in the long run. Certainly he'd be here a while.   
  
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he heard a sound. Harry sat up, breaking out of the light sleep he'd fallen into, and nearly gasped at the ache in his neck. Suddenly he was regretting the decision to stay the night in a broom cupboard (why had he thought it to be a good idea?). He missed his soft, clean bed _so much_ \-   
  
There it was again! He froze, quieting his breathing as much as he could. There was someone there. He didn't know what time it was, but surely it was _way_  past curfew. If he was lucky, it'd be Filch, who'd just wander past muttering to himself. If he was unlucky...   
  
He shivered, crossing his fingers and _hoping against hopes_ \-   
  
The footsteps came closer, not bothering to keep quiet. He'd like to think it was _indeed_  Filch (what student would walk around this loudly at _this_  time?) but the confident, proud stride sounded nothing like the caretaker's creepy shuffle.   
  
In fact, it sounded a lot like-   
  
The door flung open, and Harry was assaulted with the bright shine of a lit wand. He gasped, bringing up an arm to shield his eyes, but couldn't see who held the wand aloft. Wary, he scrambled up so as to remove the advantage of height.   
  
It only worked somewhat.   
  
"Ummm..." he mumbled. There was a deep laugh from the figure, and Harry froze again.   
  
Of course. It just _had_  to be him. Why did he ever do to deserve this? Who had he hurt? Why did Fate _hate_  him so much?   
  
He took a step back, trying to compose himself. It was difficult when he couldn't see McLaggen's face.   
  
"What?" he asked, tone annoyed. McLaggen laughed again, dimming the light enough that Harry could see his face.   
  
"Were you hiding, kitten?"   
  
Harry scowled intensely at that. "I'm not a damned kitten, McLaggen. Now what do you want?"   
  
The boy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You," he said.   
  
Harry shivered in disgust (definitely disgust, and not want. Or pleasure. Or, like, lust. No way). He wrapped his arms around himself, then loosened them again. He seemed much too vulnerable that way.   
  
Instead he raised his chin in his best impression of Malfoy and sneered, "not interested."   
  
The blond stepped closer again, and Harry automatically backed away, only to find his back hitting the wall behind him.   
  
Curse these small broom cupboards.   
  
"Of course you are," McLaggen was saying, stepping closer until he was in Harry personal space, and then leaning down until their faces were mere centimetres apart.   
  
"I-I'm not!" Harry exclaimed, and hated himself for stuttering. But Cormac (because it was awkward to call him by his surname now, even if it was in his own head) was so close, and Harry was getting strangely warm and flustered and he _hated_  it.   
  
It made him look like he might actually _like_  Cormac.   
  
He flinched at the thought, and then raised his hand to cover his mouth as his skin grew hotter. Harry had to admit that Cormac was pretty good looking, so of _course_  he had a reaction to his proximity. It was natural, right?   
  
Unbidden, Hermione and her expression of utter disgust at the idea of having any romantic affiliations with Cormac rose into the forefront of his mind, and Harry's eyes widened in horror.   
  
"Oh no!" he gasped, forgetting for a moment that Cormac was _right there_  and covering his eyes in embarrassment.   
  
He groaned to himself, wondering how he could _possibly_  like such an absolute _arsehole_ , but then large hands were wrapping around his wrists and pulling them away from his face.   
  
And he was, if possible, even closer, and Harry noticed that his eyes were actually a strangely dark blue (like royal blue, but a little lighter), and then he squeaked (again, damn it!) and tried to free himself.   
  
Cormac was grinning, and moved closer so slowly Harry was both dreading and anticipating the point at which their mouths would touch. Which shouldn't have been happening for various reasons, but Harry was kind of getting fuzzy on the specifics if that.   
  
Cormac's breath on his mouth was warm and wet, and it smelled like the chocolate truffles they'd had for desert at the Slug Club. Harry imagined he'd taste like it too, and his mouth opened in a silent gasp at the thought.   
  
Cormac grabbed his face then, hands firm but gentle on his cheeks. The message was clear - since Harry hadn't moved away yet, Cormac wouldn't allow him to change his mind anymore. He'd lost his chance to back away.   
  
Harry only had time to think he didn't mind as much as he should before their lips touched.   
  
And it was nice. It was _really_  nice, actually, but Cormac only kissed him like that for a few seconds before he was pushing his tongue into Harry's mouth and _licking_ , and _dear Merlin_  but Harry felt his knees getting weak. He didn't know kissing could feel so _good_.   
  
' _No wonder it's such a popular pastime,_ ' he thought to himself, and let his eyes slip closed. One of Cormac's hands had wandered to his lower back, and the other was on the back of his head, firmly keeping their mouths together. And Harry? He scrabbled pathetically at broad shoulders in an attempt to maintain balance. Honestly, Cormac was probably doing more in that department than him, but it was the thought that counted, right?   
  
They kissed for an awfully long time, but Harry didn't really realise until they had to stop to catch their breath. Cormac didn't move too far away, just enough to give him room to breathe, and looked down at him with an oddly soft smile on his usually arrogant face. Harry didn't really notice, being too busy regaining control over himself.   
  
He moved his hands to rest on Cormac's chest within the circle of the older boy's arms, and tried to cool the fire on his cheeks. His lips felt swollen, and when Harry touched his fingertips to them he found them puffy and faintly bruised.   
  
"Still not interested?" Cormac said, his voice deep and husky, and Harry shivered faintly.   
  
"I-" he tried, but his voice cracked embarrassingly. He coughed lightly, pushing against Cormac's chest gently. To his surprise, the boy's hold around him loosened and he stepped back, putting a little distance between them (but not much, Harry was pleased to notice).   
  
Harry smiled faintly, and looked back up. "I just," he tried again, "I've heard a lot of... things."   
  
Cormac nodded, for once serious, and crossed his arms over his chest. Harry could see his biceps tighten through the thin material of his shirt, and he immediately flushed a bright red, thanking Merlin for the relative darkness of the cupboard.   
  
"Not good... things," Harry added. He coughed again. "I don't want to be a joke to you, McLaggen."   
  
"Cormac," Cormac said immediately. "And you're not. I just, I really-" he broke off, and when Harry looked up questioningly, he was flushing slightly.   
  
"I like you," he said quietly, but in the silence of the broom cupboard he may as well have shouted.   
  
"Oh," Harry said, then again. "Oh." They stood in silence a while, before Harry spoke again. "In Slughorn's rooms just now-"   
  
"Yeah," Cormac said. He stood awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do for once, and Harry felt a strange rush of emotion at the expression on his face.   
  
Cormac was being kind of... cute?   
  
How... cute.   
  
"Sorry," he was saying, hand running at the back of his neck. "I just, that's how I... and I know I shouldn't, but..."   
  
Harry smiled and shook his head. "You won't do it again?" he asked. Cormac shook his head.   
  
"No," he agreed, then raised an eyebrow suggestively, suddenly regaining his confidence. "Not unless you want to."   
  
"Promise?" Harry asked, taking the tiniest step closer.   
  
"Promise," Cormac repeated, and Harry took another step closer.   
  
"Good," he whispered, and then laid the gentlest kiss on Cormac's lips, just for a second. He pulled away and smiled, and then then turned to leave.   
  
Instead Cormac grabbed his arm and spun him around. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and as he opened his mouth to say something, Cormac took advantage of the parted lips, and kissed him hard enough to make him feel like he was melting.   
  
When he finally backed away, the talker boy shot him a smirk - one that Harry could now admit was incredibly handsome despite also being obnoxious - and gave him a small wave before leaving him standing alone in the cupboard.   
  
Harry wrapped his arms around his waist, staring at the doorway dazedly, and thought about tomorrow. Would they be public? Would Cormac want to keep it a secret? Vaguely, he imagined the look of dumbfounded shock on Ron's face, the utter dismay on Hermione's, and wanted to laugh. They'd support him, he knew, but they'd also have the most entertaining reactions.   
  
It'd be funny.   
  
He smiled. It was all going to be fine.


End file.
